


You're Not What You Seam

by vixx_3



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, F/M, Identity Reveal, eventually, human!plagg, human!tikki, i just wrote this for the pun, its a stripper au, mari is still a designer but a sexy deigner, stripper!adrien
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:12:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13097913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vixx_3/pseuds/vixx_3
Summary: Marinette, a successful designer at Gabriel, runs an online boutique where she designs and sells lingerie.Adrien, the face of his father's company, moonlights as a stripper under the name Chat Noir, and buys his costumes from Ladybug.Nino, Alya, Tikki, and Plagg wish that they would get their shit together sometime this decade.





	You're Not What You Seam

**Author's Note:**

> hey! im trying a multichapter, look at me go!!  
> i really only wrote this for the pun, i dont honestly know where the plot is going? but i mean, i like where it's gone so far!  
> please note that i am clueless about strippers and clubs and poledancing, but am educating myself to the best of my abilities. if you have anything on those topics that you could share with me, please do!  
> also, i havent seen season 2 yet but will start it soon and incorporate what i can from there into this fic once i watch it!! :D

Marinette loved her job. Really, she did. Working at _Gabriel_ was all she had dreamed and more, and being able to see her creations come to life on the runway was nothing short of magical. The people at _Gabriel_ were great, the money was decent even as one of the younger, newer employees, and while the industry was brutal and petty at times, Marinette found that she loved the atmosphere of the office. She loved working and sketching and designing until she couldn’t see straight, feeling intoxicated by hard work and dreams come true when she returned home at the end of the day.

Which is why she could not for the life of her say why, _why_ , had she decided to open her own online boutique in addition to her job at _Gabriel_ ? Sure, Marinette had thought it was a great idea when she was just an intern, but now that she was a fully fledged designer, the thought of closing _The Ladybug_ had often crossed her mind.  Her feelings toward the boutique were conflicting: she loved having her own brand, her own shop, and the freedom to pick and choose the commissions she received, most of which were far more risque than anything Gabriel Agreste had ever imagined. In all honesty, while she had never expected herself to get into lingerie, she wasn’t all too surprised. It was freeing, in a way, to create something so out-of-the box and personal.

Yet, beneath the layer of excitement and her love for the work, it was still work. It meant that her free time at the end of the day was consumed by more designing, more sewing, more finger-pricks and calluses and teary, strained eyes.

Adrien swore she would need glasses soon if she kept on as she was, but she loved both jobs so dearly that the thought of dropping one in favor of the other was unimaginable. He laughed when she told him that, then asked what her boutique was that made it so special. Quick to defend her secret, Marinette asked what made _Gabriel_ so special in return. She regretted it instantly, as all the light went out of Adrien’s smile when he heard the question.

“I don’t know, Mari.” he had told her. “Maybe nothing does.”

He had left quickly after that, their previous plans for a movie night later on forgotten. Marinette knew that her question hadn’t upset him, rather his answer, but she texted him an apology anyway. He deserved at least that: at least one friend looking after him in the vicious world of fashion.

Adrien and Marinette had never been too close in school, mainly since Marinette’s massive crush on the model rendered her social skills useless in his presence. However, a heavy workload and big dreams had quickly  distracted her after graduation, and her crush had faded to the back burner of her mind as the two quickly became friends as fellow newcomers to the industry.

Well, she was a newcomer. Adrien was a veteran model, but his graduation from high school had forced his father and coworkers to view him as an adult. He looked the part and everything: a tall, leanly muscled man by now with a jawline that could cut his opponents at the knees. He had kept his moptop wild hair, but his piercing green eyes and disarming smile gave him all he needed to be _Gabriel_ ’s best weapon against competing companies. He liked to joke that his father might be proud of him now, since at least one of them looked the part of a fashion mogul. He then apologized immediately, even as Marinette laughed and Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. If nothing else, Marinette was glad Adrien had enough freedom from his father to have grown a sense of humor. Lord knows the poor boy needed it.

Smiling softly at her chat client where Adrien’s last message sat, an inside joke about “whatever cuts your ribbon” that they shared (It was funny! To them, at least.), Marinette was so absorbed in her listless musings that she barely noticed the notification that popped up on her other screen.

 

[8:20 PM] **Chat Noir:**

My lady, do you have time to make me another costume by this weekend?

 

Marinette groaned. It was only Thursday, no way could she make a costume for the silly kitten by his usual Saturday (Caturday?) performance.

 

[8:23 PM] **Ladybug:**

Not a chance, kitten. I do have a real job, you know.

[8:24 PM] **Chat Noir:**

But Bugaboo! It’s my Caturday purrformance! I would simply _love_ to wear one of your  purrfect costumes ;3 

[8:25 PM] **Ladybug:**

I know, Chat, but I can’t. I’m already bogged down with real life work.

[8:25 PM] **Chat Noir:**

Oh? And what might that work be? ;3

[8:26 PM] **Ladybug:**

You know the rule, Chaton. No personal information. I work in the fashion industry, and that is all you need to know.

[8:27 PM] **Chat Noir:**

3:

[8:27 PM] **Ladybug:**

Sorry, kitten. If you’d like, I can at least alter your headband by Saturday. Meet me tomorrow at 7?

[8:28 PM] **Chat Noir:**

It’s a date!

 

Marinette had to laugh at that. A date? She barely had time to sew on some extra flair to the boy’s cat ears, as if she could fit a date into her busy schedule. She wondered what hours Chat kept. Did strippers have normal hours? Normal jobs? Maybe he was a real person, not a weird guy in a leather catsuit. Maybe she had seen him on the streets, maybe she would recognize him without a mask on.

She laughed again, borderline delirious from too much work. Chat was sweet, and definitely one of the more reliable and honest strippers she worked with. He was a regular customer, a shameless flirt, and a fairly good guy at times, but never quite more than a client.

Sighing, Marinette clicked over to her inbox, accepted a few commissions, sent a few notes explaining that she was a little bogged down due to the holidays looming, and finally settled down with a bowl of hot soup and some Netflix to unwind.

* * *

 

Adrien sighed, sitting back from his computer and rubbing his eyes. He should have known Ladybug wouldn’t be able to have a costume ready in time, but he had told Plagg, his manager at the Miraculous Club and Bar, that he would have a new outfit this week. He supposed it was his fault for asking so late, but a week booked with photoshoots and fittings and rehearsals really draws your focus elsewhere. Still, Ladybug was funny and sweet and amazing, but not so amazing as to make a whole outfit in a few days. Adrien would have to use an old one. Whatever happened, he figured Tikki would have his back.

Tikki was the costume, prop, and performance manager for the club. She was the official client that Ladybug contracted through, but she allowed Adrien to manage his own commissions with Ladybug’s permission.

Remembering what Ladybug had said about being bogged down, Adrien sent a quick message to Tikki to ask her for a good word to Ladybug so he could at least have a costume for next Saturday.

As he hit send, he wondered, briefly, what the hell he was doing. Really, as a model born into a wealthy family and set for life with a steady career and a massive trust fund, he had none of the desperation some of his coworkers came to the club with. Plagg had voiced the same concerns at first, but Adrien kept pushing. There was something so liberating about adopting a stage persona and putting himself on display, just like he did for _Gabriel_ but oh so different. Chat Noir was as outspoken as the model Adrien was shy, as roguish as he was refined, as fearless as he was cautious. And oh, was he cautious.

Adrien was a well known man around the world. In Paris, he was much more than that. He was the idol of the city, Gabriel Agreste’s shining star. Something told Adrien that a stripping gig might tarnish his father’s reputation. Thus, Chat Noir was born. No one save for Tikki, Plagg, and Nino, who ran lights and sound and had quickly become Adrien’s closest friend, knew Chat’s real name. “Chat Noir” adorned his dressing room door, cubbies, belongings, outfits, time slots, tickets, everything. To everyone at Miraculous, Adrien was simply Chat Noir.

It was a novelty for him to not be recognized, to have no reputation to tarnish or responsibility to his father’s name. So, with that newfound delight, Adrien set out to establish his own name in a far less refined society than the one he was used to. He put his childhood ballet training (His father said something about elegance. Adrien found he rather enjoyed dancing.) to use and learned to poledance and found that he loved the work. He loved the rush of performance, he loved to watch the faces of the crowd and see the astonished expressions of the audience, to catch someone’s eyes and wink before he twirled around to continue his dance.

Nothing, he had found, was quite as liberating than doing the things he had never been allowed to do in front of a paying crowd. He funnelled the money into a different bank account, unbeknownst to his father, and used it for personal gain. His first goal was to earn enough for university classes, so once his father denied him further education, he would have a fallback plan. He already had his own apartment, so why should Gabriel know what courses his son is or isn’t taking?

That concept had also been knew to Adrien. “Why should Gabriel know?” he had been asked, by friends and lovers and modelling agencies alike. Once he realized that Gabriel didn’t have to know, Adrien became that much more independent. Need Gabriel know that Adrien is a stripper? That he’s had his own fair share of one night stands and late night parties? That he wants, more than anything, to be either a trophy husband or a professor? No. Gabriel did not need to know, and Adrien was fine with that.

Did Gabriel need to know that tomorrow at 7, he would be meeting a young fashion designer who regularly sewed him lingerie, who he met in a mask, whose name and background he didn’t know? Absolutely not. Adrien loved that part. His decisions were his to make, and no one else’s. And as of yet, none had failed him.

Laughing at his own deep introspection into the psychology of stripping and how his childhood had shaped his life, Adrien shook his head and stood up, beginning his rigorous beauty routine before collapsing into bed.

* * *

  


Marinette woke the next morning to a notification light pinging on her laptop as she slapped around her nightstand to silence her alarm. Squinting, she found her chat client and opened the message.

 

[6:17 AM] **Tikki:**

Hello Marinette, I know you are very busy with the holiday season but could you whip something up for Chat Noir? Something Christmas-y, if you can. Of his usual taste, with as many jingle bells as possible. Perhaps a garish bow. Some sort of punishment for his inability to contact you himself.

 

Marinette laughed, the morning’s irritation dissipated completely. Tikki was by far her best business partner, reliable and professional with a steady stream of commissions. Ladybug might not exist without the spritely woman’s support.

 

[7:02 AM] **Ladybug:**

I can whip something up for next week. I promise that Chat will be aptly punished :)

[7:02 AM] **Tikki:**

Wonderful! Ladybug, simply the best! Up to the test!

[7:03 AM] **Ladybug:**

If Chat Noir is my test, then I don’t want to know what your standards are :P he is

quite easy to work with.

[7:03 AM] **Tikki:**

;D

 

Smiling, Marinette pulled herself out of bed and into the shower, remembering to grab her bag of sketchbooks, pencils, and electronics as she bolted out her apartment door, coffee forgotten but bagel in hand. She made the train by seconds, sighing in relief as the doors shut behind her.

She arrived at _Gabriel_ a few minutes later, not quite late but not on time. She waved to the receptionist as she dashed by, mashing the elevator buttons in her rush to the office. It was a curse, honestly, she would never in her life be on time.

Adrien was waiting in Marinette’s office when she arrived, sitting on her desk and thumbing through last season’s sketchbook. He grinned when she walked in, handing her a cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” Marinette muttered, gratefully taking a sip as she slowly woke up. She sidled closer to the desk, looking down at the page Adrien had stopped on. It was a design from early last season, a close cut suit with green embroidery on the lapels.

“I remember this one,” Adrien said. “I loved it. That embroidery was perfect, I could have sworn you made it just for me.

Marinette grinned up at him coyly. “Who says I didn’t? Either way, though, it did look great on you. I’ll have to make another like it.”

Adrien grinned. “I’d like that. What’s on your plate today?”

Looking down at her hands, Marinette replied, “A bagel.”

Momentarily confused, Adrien stared at her, following her gaze to the uneaten bagel in her hands before letting out a chuckle. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Marinette stuck out her tongue at him. “I have a few fittings to do so I can start work on a new dress. The boss wants to see it in more than one size.”

Adrien winced. “Ouch. Well, you can manage. In fact, I can’t think of anything you couldn’t manage. You’re pretty great.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Would I?”

“I am not very great.” Marinette laughed, then set down her bagel to push Adrien out of her office. “Now go, we both have jobs to do and I don’t get paid to sit and talk to you.”

Adrien poked his head around the doorframe. “Actually, you-”

Marinette cut him off with a finger to the nose, pushing him backwards. “Nope, don’t wanna hear it, get out, go work. I’ll see you at lunch.”

The model shot her one last wink as he turned, and left her to a long, draining workday.

* * *

  


Adrien’s day ended, blissfully, at 5. He had just enough time to go home and eat, maybe freshen up and reset, before meeting Ladybug at Miraculous at 7. After that, he had a Friday show to perform, and a crowd to dazzle. He walked to his apartment with a skip in his step, having enjoyed his day through spending time with Mari, and was looking forward to seeing Ladybug and performing.

After working his way through a little bit more than what his nutritionist recommended - they didn’t account for poledancing - Adrien grabbed his mask and a hoodie and set of for Miraculous.

He arrived at the club a few minutes later, slipping his mask into its rightful place before approaching. The bouncer waved him through and he took a quick detour to his dressing room to grab his ear-adorned headpiece before grabbing a table far from the stage to wait for Ladybug.

She arrived not long after, her own mask set in place, accenting her red dress and black heels. He recognized the dress as her own design, form fitting to the hips and flowing to the ankles, with a slit up one side that occasionally flashed quick looks at her pale thighs. Swallowing quickly, Adrien pulled his gaze away and stood to greet her.

“My lady, might I say that you look fantastic tonight. That dress is just perfect for you.”

Ladybug laughed. “I would hope so, kitten. I did make it for me, it might be a little embarrassing to not fit my own dress.”

Chat grinned, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. “Beautiful and talented. You really are the full package, aren’t you.”

“I like to tell myself that,” Ladybug replied, pulling her hand away to push him backward by the nose. The gesture was familiar to Chat, but he couldn’t quite place from where.

“As do I,” he said, sitting down and pushing his ears across the table to her. He paid up front and they quickly ran out of business to talk, so Chat covered any topics he could come up with, just to spend more time with the enigma of Ladybug.

Before they knew it, 8:30 rolled around and Chat’s first set was due to start within the hour. Chat stood reluctantly, then caught Ladybug’s wrist as she did the same.

“You don’t have to go, you know.” he said, eyes searching hers. This was their routine. She came, they did business, he was called to the stage, and she left. He held out hope each time that she might stay.

“I do,” Ladybug replied.

“You do what, have to go or know?”

Ladybug smiled up at him, first bittersweet then, after a moment’s hesitation, confidently. “I do know,” she said, shocking Chat. “But first, I need a drink, and a table a little closer to the… Action.”

Chat recovered his wits, matching her grin and waving to the bartender. “Drinks on me!” he told the woman, pointing to Ladybug with a grin before giving his lady one last wink and heading backstage.

Usually, dressing was almost ceremonial before a performance. Chat took his time getting into costume, into character, and out of his own head. This time, he was so ecstatic about performing for Ladybug that he found no need for ceremony, and hurriedly prepared to perform. A few fouches of makeup, his backup ears, his iconic bell collar, a suit jacket, and high stilettos had him ready for the stage.

Nino greeted him in the wings, prepping him quickly and making sure all was in order. As the last performer left the stage to mild applause, the first bars of Chat’s chosen song, a slow electronic beat that made polework easy, played out across the bar. Regular patrons who knew his songs by now clapped, and somewhere in the audience, Chat hoped his lady was one of them. Roguish grin on his face, Chat spread his arms and took the stage.

* * *

  


Ladybug sat down at the bar, smiling sheepishly at the woman tending it. “I can pay for my own drinks, you don’t need to listen to him…”

The woman, whose crop top, high waisted shorts, and fishnets showed off toned muscle under her curves and suggested she may know her way around stage, didn’t even look up.

“No, no, that’s Chat. He’s serious about paying for your OH MY GOD,” the woman cut herself off, staring wide-eyed at Ladybug.

Marinette was instantly on alert, touching her face self-consciously. “What? What is it?”

The woman, Alya by the nametag suddenly much closer to Marinette’s face, leaned over the counter to grab her hands. “You’re Ladybug! You do all the costumes, right? I’ve seen your work, you’re amazing! Hey, do you think you could make me something?”

Stunned, Marinette leaned back in her seat, putting some distance between her and Alya. “Commissions go through the online store, you’d have to get in queue. I’m a little bogged down right now.”

Alya visibly deflated, settling back on her heels behind the bar. “Damn,” she said, then perked up again. “I guess I can queue. Meanwhile, forget Chat, your drinks are on the house! This place would be nothing without your work! What can I get you?”

For the next few minutes, Alya and Marinette shared a few drinks and chatted like old friends. Marinette learned that Alya was only working part time in Miraculous, and was a journalist for her day job. She also learned that, subsequently, Alya was very nosey. She pulled personal details out of Marinette left and right, at first harmless but progressively more informative after a few minutes. Marinette did not disclose her identity or place of work, but shared fears and secrets as though she had known Alya all her life.

As she was making Alya swear to never disclose any of the information she had, on threat of refusing business to Miraculous workers, Alya put up a hand to stop her and pointed at the ceiling.

“That’s Chat’s song,” she commented, shoving Marinette’s shoulder gently. “Go get up closer to the stage! That’s really where all the magic happens.”

Unable to do anything but comply, Marinette watched as the stage lights came on and felt her heart beat in time with the _thrum_ of the bass. She found a seat close to the stage and watched, entranced, as Chat stepped into the limelight.

**Author's Note:**

> adrien did ballet idc if thats canon let me live
> 
> uhhhh so anyway theres ch1! its one of the longest chapters of anything ive ever written i dunno if other chapters are gonna be this long?? we will see.
> 
> please leave me constructive criticism in the comments! at least tell me why i suck :D my tumblr is probablypercyjackson if you wanna message me there you are welcome to!! thank you for reading!!!


End file.
